


The Plumber Always Rings Twice

by Lilsi



Category: The Bill
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsi/pseuds/Lilsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke calls for a plumber to help fix a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Plumber Always Rings Twice

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was once posted at Craiggilmore.co.uk a fan site no longer active, so to preserve this story and others, I am importing them to AO3. I did not want the loss of such a large amount of amazing and wonderful fanfiction, it would be such a waste to fans of Craig Gilmore and Luke Ashton to not have the opportunity to enjoy these stories as i have. Since the site is no longer active i have been unable to contact the creators but if you happen to be them under a new pen name and want the fiction to be removed please send me a note!
> 
> Story written by - Alex
> 
> Written for the CG 10 Words Challenge.

 

Brr-ring.

BRR-ring

~~~~

Flipping typical, Luke thinks as he runs lightly down the stairs, straightening his clothes as he goes, wait two weeks for a plumber, spend ALL morning twiddling your thumbs in front of daytime TV when you could be sunning yourself in the back garden and he turns up just when you're in the bathroom!

 

He flings the door open just in time to catch a glimpse of faded, well-worn jeans stretched tight across a fabulous backside before the man on the front path straightens up, managing to turn in the same motion so it doesn't quite look as if he was about to leave.  Luke finds himself gazing up into an incredible pair of dark hazel eyes, set in the face of a tall, sun tanned, tousle headed...Adonis is the word Luke wants to use.  Not that Adonis, as far as he knows, has ever been portrayed as a being in his late thirties with a neatly trimmed moustache, firmly grasping a toolbox in one hand.

 

The man smiles slowly; he has a truly beautiful smile and Luke's jaw drops.  It's the sort of smile that ought to belong to a man who knows _exactly_ the effect he has on members of the same sex and the moustache even moves with it just like Luke thought it would.  He closes his mouth with what he hopes isn't an audible snap.

 

“Want a plumber?”

 

Luke flushes furiously.  He's been without sex for what seems like ages and his body is already telling him - in no uncertain terms - that it _really_ wants _this_ plumber.  He steps back into the narrow hall.

 

“I really do.” Even to himself it sounds a bit needy.

 

A firm, strong arm brushes against Luke as the man steps in out of the dazzling, hot sunshine and he allows himself a second to contemplate how far his tan extends under the once pristine white, now paint-spattered, vee-necked t-shirt the older man is wearing, before following him into the comparative gloom of the hallway.  Slung low around his hips is a thick leather belt hung with several different sorts of screwdrivers - all with rubber handles - a couple of spanners, a very workmanlike tape measure and, Luke smiles to himself, there's even a pouch for a mobile phone.

 

They come to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and there's very definitely something suggestive in the glance that is thrown at him before the question gets asked.

 

“So, where d'you want me?”

 

Luke bites his lip and closes his eyes powerless to stop his imagination run riot - _down on your knees in the shower; over the table with me buried ball deep inside of you; on your back on the bed, spread open beneath me, glistening and golden as I ram..._

 

His reverie is rudely interrupted just as he's getting into it.

 

“Upstairs or down?

 

“The kitchen,” Luke points vaguely.

 

There's a brief flare of another smile hastily extinguished.

 

“You're the boss.”

 

They continue down the passage with Luke's attention now wholly focussed on deciding what is being worn beneath the denim moving so enticingly ahead of him.  _Boxers? (Silk, or cotton?)  Briefs?  Nothing?_ They reach the spacious, modern, beech-fitted kitchen and come to a total stop, facing each other beside the breakfast bar.  Luke can't drag his eyes away from the moustache; he needs to know how it would feel against his skin, his lips, his chest and – he licks his lips in anticipation – his cock.

 

There's a low appreciative whistle.  “Nice.”

 

“Yes,” Luke agrees pleasantly, staring openly now at the man before him as he removes the tool box from his hand and places it down on the counter beside them.

 

“So, what can I do for you today?”

 

“I really need help with this problem I have,” Luke says casually, moving his hands to the buckle on the man’s heavy belt, his eyes taking in the obvious bulge that is forming below it.  Large warm hands slip inside the waistband of his shorts, sliding over the naked flesh they find beneath them.

 

“Big problem is it?”

 

Luke looks down between them.

 

“It appears to be getting bigger by the minute.”

 

“Oh I can definitely deal with that.”

 

**...**

 

Pinned to the kitchen floor, the wood - which had seemed so refreshingly cool beneath him when Craig had first tugged him down here - is now beginning to stick to the naked, sweaty skin of Luke's back.  He squirms beneath Craig: ribs heaving, hands raised defensively above his chest, elbows tucked tightly against his sides.  A stray tear trickles back along his temple adding to the dampness of his hair.

 

“No fair!”

 

Craig kneels up, removing his weight from across Luke's thighs.

 

“What isn't?” he asks, bemused.

 

“You know how I get all ticklish after...”

 

“You're not normally this bad...” Craig chuckles, placing his hands on the floor either side of Luke's glowing face and dropping a kiss onto his forehead.

 

“I can't help it – it's the facial fuzz – it's all soft and prickly.”

 

“That makes no sense at all you do realise that don't you?” Craig laughs.

 

Luke shrugs.

 

“I can't explain it – it's just how it is.” He strokes a finger gently over the stiff ends of hair that adorn Craig's top lip. “What does it feel like for you?”

 

“Itchy and horrible.  I can't wait to get rid of it.”

 

Craig's lips are tantalizingly close, Luke's unable to look away, another moment and he'll be kissing him again.

 

“I've never met anyone as ticklish as you.” Craig rises to his not inconsiderable height and clasping Luke's outstretched hand pulls him up to join him. 

 

Luke grins impishly. 

 

“Maybe I need a safety word?”

 

“We can do that any time.  Right now though I just want to get you upstairs so you can get me out of this moustache.” Craig says dragging him towards the door.

 

**...**

 

Thick clouds of steam billowing up from the sink rapidly fill their small bathroom.

 

“So - glad the plumber called today?” Craig asks slyly, wrapping his arms around Luke's naked waist.

 

"I'll say,” Luke replies, still rather breathless from their encounter downstairs. “Two weeks of no sex, no kissing, no anything was a very cruel and unusual punishment.  Just because I wanted to see you in a moustache.” He looks back over his shoulder as he turns off the hot tap and starts adding cold, swirling his hand through the water until it reaches the correct temperature.  “We don't have to do this."

 

“Fair's fair,” Craig murmurs, rubbing his face over the back of Luke's neck.  “You play my fantasy, I play yours...” His fingers seek Luke's nipples and rub them teasingly.  “And then we both get to play the bonus round.”

 

Luke swats Craig's hands away from his chest.  “Pack that in, you!”  He struggles to fit a new blade onto the silver handle of Craig's favourite razor as Craig's hands continue to roam over his sweat-dampened skin.  “Knock it off!” he growls, brandishing the razor as he twists round to face Craig.  He looks up. 

 

"You're going to have to sit down.  You're too tall for me to do this with you standing." 

 

He's smiling in a deliciously wanton way - like he's ready for another round.  Somehow, Craig thinks, it makes all the discomfort that went with growing the monstrosity above his top lip fade nicely into the background.  When Luke smiles at him like that, he could probably ask for anything and get it.

 

Gingerly Craig lowers himself onto the thick towel that has been neatly hung over the edge of their roll-top bath, pressing his hands onto the cool enamel either side while Luke screws the cap off an unfamiliar tube of pale green shaving gel and places it ready beside the sink.

 

The warm, damp air feels heavy in Craig's lungs as he curls his fingers under the rim of the bath beside his thighs - he leans forward a little, watching as Luke picks up a flannel and plunges it into the bowl in front of him.  And it's warm, really pleasantly warm in fact, when Luke offers it up against his face, dense and soft and vaguely smelling of one of the new fabric softeners that he always baulks at buying but Luke likes to experiment with.  He thinks it might be lavender and chamomile. 

 

"That okay?"

 

The warmth is gone, and Luke is folding the flannel onto window sill at the back of the sink.  He shakes open a hand towel and lays it across Craig's lap, one hand strokes up Craig's arm to his shoulder and Luke kisses him slowly, exploring Craig's mouth with his tongue as his fingers slide into the thick hair at the back of Craig's head.  He presses his lips one final time to each end of the moustache before withdrawing.

 

"Yes" Craig manages. 

 

He can't drag his eyes away as Luke squirts a small amount of the gel into his palm and works it into a lather.  He grips Luke's hips when he turns back towards him, and cocks an eyebrow in the direction of the sink.

 

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

 

“Well I've had the last couple of weeks while we waited for it to grow in to prepare, and it's like you said, an extra 'bonus round' - the least I could do was try to make it special.” 

 

Luke sets his feet either side of Craig's left leg – one knee grazing the inside of Craig's thigh.  “I don't think I can do this if you're going to watch me.” Pursing his lips together he looks down at Craig who obligingly shuts his eyes. 

 

So the first creamy touch of the rich foam on his face comes as a bit of a shock.

 

Craig's skin starts to tingle as Luke's fingers slide down over his cheek, methodically working his way along his jaw before continuing to his throat, leaving in their wake a layer of minty-smelling lather that can only be millimetres deep.  Pressure under his chin tips his head back and his fingers tighten compulsively to save himself from falling backwards into the bath. 

 

There is a faint scrape of metal on the porcelain of the sink as Luke picks up the razor.  Dry-mouthed, Craig dutifully keeps his eyes closed and tries to stay relaxed, which would be easier if his policeman's brain could only stop insisting razors are dangerous: that anyone, even your partner of the past eighteen months, holding a razor - even a safety razor - to your throat, is a bad idea.

 

“Balls... You know what I did forget don't you?”

 

Craig opens his eyes.  Luke is studying his face intently.   

 

“You need scissors...”

 

“Yeah,” Luke grins.  “Sorry.  Won't be a tick.”

 

**...**

 

“Okay.” Luke says a few minutes later, tossing a pair of curved nail scissors carelessly into the water.  “Now back to the good bits.”

 

Craig closes his eyes again, slipping his hands up to Luke's waist.  There's the scrape of razor on china again when Luke picks it back up and then a hand on Craig's face, tipping his head to one side.  The object of the exercise is simple enough - the removal of stubble - that's something _Craig_ does twice every day, but Luke is definitely getting a huge 'kick' out of the experience (Craig can feel it nudging against his arm). 

 

The first touch is just below the apple of his cheek, Luke presses lightly, pulling Craig's already tightening skin fully taut before drawing the razor down in a single, smooth stroke that's over before Craig even has time to consider flinching.  Luke's muscles flex beneath Craig's palms as he twists to rinse the blade before another stroke.  Soon Luke has established a rhythm: stroke, twist-rinse, twist-stroke, stroke.   Craig wonders how Luke would react if he were to take hold of his beautifully hardening cock right now and start stroking him in time with his actions, then squashes the idea firmly for safety's sake.  He would have been too late anyway - Luke appears to have finished here, the razor's being set down.  There is a very definite moment of hesitation before Luke's fingers slick over his cheeks, checking to see if he's missed anywhere. 

 

Craig's head is tilted back and the razor touches against the thin skin of his throat when it returns, sweeping up to a halt at the angle of his jaw.  He risks opening his eyes for a second – it's just as he'd thought – Luke's tongue is poking between his lips in concentration.  There's more rinsing followed by the sharp chink of metal on the edge of the basin, then warm breath fans over his damp skin, as Luke bends closer to his task.  Luke settles into a simpler, slower rhythm here - matched by the sounds of their deepening breathing.  Far too soon for Craig's liking he stops again.  There is a pause, presumably because he needs more gel.  Craig isn't quick enough to sneak a peek before Luke's knee is pushing at his thighs, spreading them further apart so he can step between them, and Craig finally manages to take advantage, pressing his lips against the smooth, soft skin covering Luke's ribs as his hands fondle between Luke's legs.

 

“Hey you,” Luke gasps, fending Craig off, “just let me do this okay?”

 

There's a soft scrunching noise as Luke strokes foam thickly into the short, stiff hairs that are all that remain of his moustache.  He touches his fingers to Craig's face.  Short, teasing sweeps of the blade against the newly sensitive skin of Craig's upper lip follow as he curls it over his top teeth.  Luke's breath rasps faster with his actions, while Craig dizzyingly thinks that he himself might have stopped breathing altogether.  The razor splashes back into the water, before stroking carefully twice, three times, over his chin and Luke really is, finally, finished.

 

Craig opens his eyes slowly, to the gushing sounds of water draining from the sink.

 

“How was that?"  Luke shakes the towel from Craig's lap, beaming broadly as Craig's freshly liberated cock curves up to greet his hand.  With the towel gone Luke's hands are free to trace over every inch of Craig's groin. 

 

Craig rises to his feet.  At last he is able to sink his fingers down into the soft flesh of Luke's arse and pull him closer.

 

“Great.”

 

“Yeah, so I can feel.”

 

Luke sinks to his knees between Craig's legs, his tongue swirling once round Craig's navel before working his way down through soft clinging curls.  He rocks back on his heels a split second before Craig expects to feel his lips on his shaft. 

 

“I don't suppose I could persuade you to let me shave you all over??”

 

“No.”

 

“Wax?

 

“NO”

 

“No?”

 

Luke sucks Craig's balls into his mouth, gazing up into Craig's face – watching how he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and waits till he sees Craig's eyes roll closed and feels the accompanying groan buzz against his tongue before withdrawing. 

 

“Maybe another day?”

 

There's a better chance of hell freezing over, or Luke swallowing.  Craig can't help himself, his hands twist into Luke's hair urging him back down to his cock.  Luke takes the very tip, caressing it with his tongue as his hands slide up through Craig's parted legs to the small of his back before dragging down into the cleft, stroking over the sensitised ring of muscle, making every nerve-ending leap to life and Craig's cock twitch painfully.  Luke draws his head away, leaving his fingers circling. 

 

“Please Luke?” Craig hates hearing himself whine.

 

“Wait...” he mumbles, licking Craig's thigh, “rubber...There's one already on the side...”

 

“Oh!”  Craig finds it more or less by touch.  Ripping the packet open with his teeth he is assaulted by the strong smell of peppermint and, with Luke watching him from the floor, he pinches the end, smoothing it along his length.  Luke's mouth follows the path of Craig's fingers, engulfing him as his arms snake round behind Craig's thighs, anchoring him in place as he rocks his face forward.

 

It is all Craig can do to stop himself ramming all the way down Luke's throat when his orgasm hits him bone-shakingly hard moments later; sucking all the air from his lungs.

 

**...**

 

“Craig?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

Luke props his head on one hand as the other continues to spiral lazy figures of eight through the hair on Craig's chest; looping around his nipples.

 

“Have fun?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Craig sighs happily, rolling towards him.

 

“Have I ever mentioned..” Luke pauses to kiss Craig's naked face (the moustache had been fun – he'd thought it would be - but he's glad to have his old Craig back), “what I thought I'd like to be, if I hadn't joined the force...?”

 

“Stripper?” Craig offers.

 

“No.” Luke says biting gently at the skin beneath Craig's ear.

 

“Lap dancer?” Craig suggests, earning a sharper nip to the lobe and a withering look.  “I give in,” he says tweaking one of Luke's nipples in retribution.  “What did you want to be?”

 

“A fireman.”


End file.
